OPEN POST: WHEN A CUTE CAT OR DOG WON'T DO: HISTORICAL FIGURES AND THEIR WILD PETS

Josephine Baker was the American-born French dancer and singer who captured the hearts of audiences in Paris during the vibrant 1920s. Renowned for her dazzling performances and charismatic stage presence, she broke barriers as the first Black woman to star in a major motion picture, paving the way for future artists. She was frequently accompanied on stage by her beloved pet cheetah, Chiquita, who added an exceptional touch to her acts. Dressed in a sparkling diamond collar, Chiquita often stole the spotlight with her playful antics, including her thrilling leaps into the conductor’s pit, much to the delight and astonishment of the audience. Together, Josephine and Chiquita created an unforgettable and enchanting experience that resonated with the spirit of the Roaring Twenties.

Photograph of Gérard de Nerval by Félix Nadar.

The French Romantic poet Gérard de Nerval was quite the character, significantly influencing the later Symbolist and Surrealist movements. Picture this: Nerval strutting through the Palais-Royal in Paris with his pet lobster, Thibault, trailing behind on a blue silk ribbon. Who needs a dog when you can have a lobster? When someone asked him about this peculiar pet choice, he casually replied, "I have affection for lobsters. They are tranquil, serious, and they know the secrets of the sea." He was already eccentric, and this was just one of many examples of his odd personality quirks. Probably, this was one of the more public displays of his unusual behavior.

George Gordon Byron, 6th Baron Byron by Richard Westall, 1813

Lord Byron, celebrated as one of the greatest English poets and a vital figure in the Romantic movement, was infamous for his unorthodox antics. During his time as a student at Trinity College, Cambridge, in the early 1800s, he faced a peculiar dilemma when he learned that pets, specifically dogs, were strictly prohibited on campus. Undeterred by this constraint, Byron ingeniously sought out a tame bear, delighting in the fact that there were no regulations against keeping such an unconventional animal. 

Vividly, he would stroll through the college grounds, the bear ambling beside him, capturing the attention and bafflement of fellow students and faculty alike. Byron's whimsical nature extended even further when he attempted to enroll his unique companion as a fellow student, envisioning a world where his bear could attend lectures alongside him. However, the authorities ultimately rejected this playful application, marking yet another chapter in Byron's wildly colorful life filled with rebellion, peculiarities, and creativity.

When Theodore Roosevelt assumed the presidency in 1901, his family moved into the grand halls of the White House, bringing with them an extraordinary array of pets that transformed the residence into a lively household. Among their eclectic collection was a charming lizard named Bill, who often basked in the sun, and a striking blue macaw named Eli Yale, known for his vibrant plumage and raucous calls. The Roosevelts also cared for a unique hen called Baron Spreckle, a rotund pig named Maude, and an eccentric one-legged rooster that added to the household's charm. 

Adding to this delightful chaos was a wise barn owl that perched quietly in corners, a duo of adorable guinea pigs sportily named Admiral Dewey and Fighting Bob Evans, and a rather unusual pet badger named Josiah, who wandered around docile and sometimes quite playful. The family also included a small, endearing black bear called Jonathan Edwards, whose gentle nature won hearts, and a hyena named Bill, whose laughter-like sounds brought unexpected hilarity to the White House. 

Theodore Roosevelt Jr. holds Eli Yale. Frances Benjamin Johnston

The Roosevelt one-legged rooster.

In November 1926, a group of enthusiastic supporters of President Calvin Coolidge sent an unusual gift: a live raccoon meant for the first family’s Thanksgiving feast. EWWWWW. However, upon receiving the creature, the Coolidge family chose not to follow through with the intended fate. Instead, they were charmed by the raccoon's playful antics and decided to adopt her as a pet. They named her Rebecca and constructed a cozy little house for her within the White House grounds. Rebecca quickly became a beloved family member, freely exploring the expansive gardens and adding a touch of wild joy to the stately atmosphere.

Salvador Dalí, some would say, was the quintessential embodiment of surrealism, a vivid and imaginative artist known for his eccentricities. Seeing him strolling through the bustling streets was a delightful sight, accompanied by his exotic pet ocelot, Babou. With its striking spotted coat, this medium-sized wild cat was said to be a gift from the president of Colombia, adding a touch of intrigue to their companionship. Throughout the vibrant decade of the 1960s, Dalí took Babou along on his adventures, the ocelot gracefully trotting beside him, secured on a sturdy leash and adorned with a dazzling studded collar that accentuated its wild elegance. As artists often do, Dalí was passionate about cats for their independent, wild nature and mysterious elegance. For the record, I hate his art with the passion of a thousand scorching hot suns; think he was mainly up his own ass and complicated, but he did have moments of sheer brilliance and that was his adoration of cats. Other than that, I got nothing. 

Lucius Licinius Crassus, the celebrated orator of ancient Rome, was not only known for his eloquence and persuasive speeches but also for his unusual pet, an eel. His dedication to this creature, which he trained to respond to its name, was a testament to his remarkable devotion. He even adorned his slippery friend with delicate earrings and intricately crafted necklaces, turning the eel into an imposing and cherished household member, which continues to intrigue Roman scholars. 

The only way I would ever have a wild animal is as a rescue that needed a home. I would never purchase one from a dealer. These days, we know that better than they used to, but these pets were tamed and used to people. Josephine doted on Chiquita; she slept in her bed and went on car rides with her. Eventually, her care and Josephine's career collided, so Chiquita lived out her last days in a zoo that Josephine had always visited. Back then, it seemed like a humane choice; it had been hard for her to do, but nowadays, we would do it differently. So we look at these people through the lens of history and not in today's animal lovers' ideals. 

BTW, looking for Peckerwood's Weekly Lunocracy Post? It's RIGHT HERE.